Avishraa Reloaded

The vigils passed, though the time spent on Curiosity made it hard to track them unless Einriss thought to catch up with things when he returned to Avishraa. It had been late in the 28th turn when Dlyss had mentioned working with animals, and the entirety of the 29th had passed without further mention of the matter.

The experimental plant bed had progressed to the point where the vast majority of sprouts were surviving, and the focus had progressed to attempting to replicate in them the ability of a Chosen to sense the presence of another Chosen, so that they knew which potential targets to avoid when they were given offensive capabilities. In many ways, this was highly original work; this particular sensory capacity was not something that had ever been isolated before, mostly because it had never been studied. There'd never been a reason.

Dlyss' aid was particularly invaluable in this, because otherwise there were few clues as to where the capacity came from and, particularly, how it could be applied to plants. The process might have gone much faster if there had been an Unchosen about for Einriss to look at - to see where the differences were - but since that could not be done, precognition was the only feasible way of shortening the time involved. Through it all, Dlyss seemed as impassive as ever, but increasingly distracted and, it had to be said, also tired.

As the 30th turn began, some of their plants began to twitch when Dlyss or Einriss passed near, but not any of the few strange animals that roamed the chilly mountainside, and it seemed clear that the basic capability had been achieved.

One vigil soon afterward, when Einriss had come to Dlyss' house to enter Curiosity, he was met by the oracle's majordomo, who informed him that Dlyss wished to see him in the audience chamber. And so, Einriss was escorted once again to the room where he had first met Dlyss, though this time she was not reclining on her divan, but seated on the floor with an air of restlessness. She looked up at Einriss as the majordomo left them.

“Tell me,” she asked, “Would you be averse to a change of living arrangements in relation to your work?”

The question was not in any way offensive, but it was out of all context for Einriss, and he made no effort to conceal his confused surprise. And it was good that it did surprise him, since his mind would otherwise have remained firmly occupied with progress on the plants, and he might have otherwise only paid partial attention. “What did you have in mind?” he asked.

Dlyss was silent for a moment, and then said, “I believe we are approaching the point at which the aforementioned work with animals must commence, though I have not fully decided which routes should be focused on. But I feel that there will be a greater need for security from prying eyes, and I would prefer that the work take place somewhere more closely guarded. Having you live there would… simplify matters.” She stood up. “I wish to show you the place I mean. And, indeed, to have you meet someone who I think would be working with you.”

Being mostly absorbed in his work and not too in need of social connection, the suggestion seemed quite all right for Einriss - the question he might have, once he had seen the place, would be how convenient it would be to cart materials back and forth from it, not how often he could see the rest of the Citadel. He nodded curtly, meaning it as deferrence, ready to follow her lead.

And then she said 'someone who I think would be working with you', and something in his mind skipped a beat. A colleague? The thought had never seriously occurred to him, even though they'd discussed the possibility of him coordinating the work of other Lifegivers at some point. But even then, the phrasing had been different. Having someone else truly scientifically invested in these projects would be a great boon. She had his curiosity.

Somewhat to his surprise, Dlyss led him not toward the door of the house, but deeper into it, in a section that he had not previously entered. It became apparent, from the sights of well-appointed beds and cribs through various doors - not to mention the higher density of guards - that these were the personal apartments of Dlyss and her family. A teenage girl of a honey-yellow color poked her head out of one room, opened her mouth upon seeing Einriss, and then shut it again upon meeting Dlyss' gaze. She ducked back inside.

The doorway at the end of the hall appeared to lead into a master bedroom, but luckily they stopped shortly before reaching it; one of the side doorways was fully occupied by a stone door, into which some kind of strange mechanism was embedded. Dlyss said, as if to reassure him, “On those occasions when you would need to leave or depart, you would not ordinarily come this way. It is meant for my own use.”

She made a vague motion with one hand, and a hole - rimmed with silver-blue light - opened up in the air before her; with an air of concentration, she reached through it and began doing… something. The muffled sound of clicks and clunks emanating from the door suggested that she was manipulating some kind of lock or latch on the inside. At last, she withdrew her hand, and, as the hole popped out of existence, the door slid aside into the wall. Dlyss led him through briskly; after eighteen breaths, the door slid shut behind them.

Inside was a small and unremarkable room, unfurnished except for a podium supporting a book. Evidently, the place she wanted him to live was not on Avishraa at all.

“I should say that I would prefer that you not volunteer any information about the world we will be seeing,” she said as she opened the book. “Though enough people are involved with it that it is impossible to hide the fact that it exists, it remains prudent not to make information-gathering easier than it has to be.”

The lines swirling on the page looked promising. The coils of waves crashing against the jagged lines of rocky cliffs. Plants of strange shapes. A very prominent-looking sun over seas and islands.

That she had led him to a linking book was quite unsurprising. The Citadel was a wonderful place when measured against the rest of Avishraa for the safety it provided, but there weren't so many differences in safety between the different patches of their valley. Off-world was safest from prying eyes, not least because anyone coming into the world unexpectedly would be obviously trespassing and could be dealt with.

Einriss licked at his teeth. That he not share information about the worlds he was visiting with others was already known and went without saying - he didn't speak with random acquaintances about Bubbles in the Dark, either, and he wouldn't have started, any more than he would have told them about the arrangements of Dlyss's private quarters. It was less a consideration of fundamental sacredness, though, and more that he did not speak of environments much in general - and had enough presence of mind to understand the concept of privacy, if not necessarily always respect for it.

He was far more likely to tell interested parties about the plants he was working on, and there a bit of possessiveness and perfectionism helped him guard his tongue - he would feel comfortable speaking about them after they were complete and could be used, when the project was no longer at risk of yet running into an insurmountable obstacle.

“This looks interesting,” he said, and reached out for the page at an interruptible pace, just in case Dlyss wanted to tell him something else first.

She made no attempt to stop him.

When the new world swirled into existence around him, there was not much to see, for he had appeared in a room very much like the one he'd left. The main differences were a slightly different smell and feel to the air (his alchemist senses detected a slightly different mix of atmospheric gases, organic compounds elevated levels of moisture and salt… and it was obviously warmer than the Citadel was), and the fact that there was no door occupying the doorway. There were two guards, who were gaping at him in astonishment.

Before their surprise could turn to suspicion and anger, Dlyss appeared as well, and swept through the doorway, motioning for Einriss to follow. To the guards she said, without stopping or looking at them, “Kindly do be more alert.”

“This is Oghiras”, she said, using the Ghyezramsi word for purity. “It was written by and for my followers to provide… privacy from outside groups and concerns.” And, indeed, as they moved away from Dlyss' entry chamber, the halls became more populated. Men, women. Echoing from somewhere off in the distance, he could hear what sounded like the voices of many children.

She led him to a T-intersection where the unoccupied wall evidently had adjoined the outside, for a wide section of it had been removed to make way for a balcony overlooking the landscape. The sun, high overhead, was large and golden; the sky was not the blue of home, but a dull orange, as if in the grip of a weak sunset. Dim reddish light illuminated a landscape that was peculiarly dark; the water appeared black, and so did much of the ground, though as his eyes adjusted he realized that the blackness there was, in fact, foliage. Despite the grim appearance, the smell and feel of life was everywhere.

“It is very… different, I know. The intent had been to find a world more similar to our own, but the Writers did not have quite the same expertise as Enneth does. Though she had helped to train them, I had thought it best for her not to be directly involved.”

The observation made Einriss startle lightly. “Oh? Why not?” he asked, his tone one of curiosity. It wasn't that he felt any particular sort of loyalty to Enneth, but if she was the most capable person, and already in Dlyss's respected inner circle, it seemed like a waste not to pull her into the project. That the clear implication was that she was perhaps not as far in said respected inner circle as she ought to have been was lost to him. If it hadn't, he might have expressed some surprise at never having seen any of these other people before.

He probably could have reasoned it out himself, really, but the dark forest already had most of his attention, and he could feel his focus stretch across it, tasting its composition.

Dlyss wondered what it must be like to be blissfully unaware of political and ideological realities. She hoped, for Einriss' sake, that it was peaceful.

Aloud, she replied, “Enneth is… an employee, you understand. She does work for me because I provide generous remuneration, and I employ her because she is useful. But she is very much not a follower; she has certain views that are incompatible with things I may need to achieve. In this particular case, she would not have cooperated in an attempt to Write a world as a facility intended to keep important work hidden from the rest of Chosenkind. As it is,” she added, sounding slightly resigned, “when she finds out, she will be very unhappy about it.”

Between the dimness and the ruddy colors, it was difficult to pick out details in the alien landscape, and the eye seemed to strain to find them. The only relief, such as it was, came from the slightly purplish appearance of a body sitting low in the sky opposite the sun; it was something like Kastun back home, but rather larger in apparent size. This did little to keep the eye and brain from slowly building up an ache; possibly it got easier after living here for a while.

Maybe Dlyss felt the same way; in any event, she beckoned Einriss back inside. She continued, “Most of the people here are followers; they agree with what I have tried to teach them. Only a few people of… expertise, are exceptions, and only when they are felt reliable enough not to prove disruptive to our purposes. You, if you agree to be housed here, will be among them.”

Einriss did know how to be deferrent, though. “I'm honoured,” he said. The ache had only barely registered to him - the life of the world was plenty to keep him inspired, no doubt more than enough to keep him focussed. There was some hesitance in his gait at wandering back inside, making it clear that he was rather eager to, at some point, take a closer look at the local life - nothing that wasn't already obvious to anyone who had worked with Lifegivers for more than five seconds, though. “The person you mentioned I might be working with will stay here as well, I presume?”

“She already is. It seemed better. She is an unusual person, and she…” There was a long pause. It was not often that Dlyss spent much time considering what to say, but it indeed appeared to be happening. At last, she continued: “…she is quite intelligent, but she thinks differently. The short amount of time she spent in the Citadel made it evident that special living arrangements would be required, and since I had been looking for another lifegiver in any case, bringing her here seemed a happy solution.”

They passed through what seemed to be some kind of community area. There was something like a cafeteria, with kitchens and a counter and tables at which people were eating; the smells of the food were familiar enough that one could guess that they had either imported food or managed to produce Avishraan food locally. There were classrooms, where children - quite a lot of them, considering the number of people he was seeing - were being taught something about the differences between Chosen and Unchosen. Some of the children gawked at the Oracle as she strode by.

As they passed into a quieter section, Dlyss continued, “We have set aside a volume for… research activities. Elementalists are shaping out rooms for specimen containment and record-keeping and so on. And living quarters, to be conveniently close. Those intended for you are almost done, though they will require furnishing to be made comfortable. The book of Curiosity would be brought here as well, so that you do not have to go via Avishraa to access it.”

There was no use thanking an Oracle for its foresight, of course. That his research and living arrangements were almost done wasn't really surprising in light of what he by now intuited about the Oracle, but it was pleasant regardless, and his body language glowed. Still, the question of resources remained. “While it does look like this place can sustain takmar, I'm left to wonder if there are any resources you anticipate I may need to return to Avishraa for. It's no trouble if it's an occasional thing. I do have one obligation I will need to call off back in the Citadel, but it is a small matter of gardening, and easily done.” Ah, yes, Einriss, with his strange loyalty even to the insignificant. At least he wasn't talking about it as though it might yet stop him from moving here as he had when he first began his work - but Dlyss knew even this was more due to his own burning interest in these projects than it was out of any political intelligence. No matter; in future, there would be no more distractions that he might be set upon by - or rather, none that could prove politically inconvenient, much less slow his progress.

Dlyss paused. There was a door on either side of the passage here; one was open, and there was someone in the room beyond carefully shaping the stone to form shelves in the wall; from the residential look of the place, they might well be the quarters intended for Einriss. The door opposite was closed.

“Though I suspect that you will derive more enjoyment from the outdoors here than many,” she said slowly, as if considering the matter, “there are many who feel a need to return to Avishraa periodically to spend time in more accustomed conditions. What food cannot be produced here is brought in, of course, so you need not concern yourself with that unless there is something you particularly prefer. There are some crafts that we have no artisans for, but unless the need is urgent or unusual, it is generally possible to have it included with the shipments brought in. If it proves necessary to obtain specimens with particular traits for your work, your presence might be required to ensure that the correct ones are captured.”

So there was a steady exchange between Avishraa and Oghiras. That would do. He had no reason to believe he would need anything on dire short notice, but admittedly the work with animals might yet make a liar of him - mistreated plants generally managed to keep up some function for longer than a mistreated animal, after all, at least if the nature of the mistreatment was a chemical imbalance.

They could revisit the topic if it turned out to be a problem. For now, he didn't anticipate one. “That sounds like it won't be an issue,” he acknowledged. “But I'll be sure to let you or a delegate know if that changes. If I can't reach you and the matter requires some expediency, is there someone here best suited to address instead? My colleague, for example?”

The faintest hint of a grimace crossed Dlyss' face. “Puugwol can, at least, introduce you to Toreduss, who serves as the quartermaster, the logistical head, here. His office is near the cafeteria. Puugwol herself has a… haphazard ability to consider matters of supply. Incidentally,” Dlyss added, indicating the closed door, “these are her chambers; you should probably meet her. I must advise you, however, that she is also a shifter, and delights in… unusual forms.”

Dlyss knocked on the door. There was a sound from inside, nothing so definite as a word but a sort of interrogative noise, but this was apparently enough to satisfy the oracle and she slid the door aside.

What was inside was… was… well, after a moment's consideration, it was clearly a takma, just based on the overall shape. But it was covered in a thin layer of… fluff? Tufts? It didn't quite look like fur. And there was a third eye in the middle of its forehead. And it had an extra set of thumbs, opposite where the usual ones were.

It - she, presumably - seemed to have barely registered their entry into the room. She was intently examining the fluff on one of her arms.

Puugwol's appearance stirred immediate twin emotions in Einriss. On the one hand, the curious scientist, who felt an urge that, had he been forced to bring accurate voice to it, would have been best described as a desire to vivisect this curious creature. On the other hand, his sense of life recoiled at the patchwork, its subtle inefficiencies as plain to him as a disease.

Somewhere between the emotions was the awareness that this was a person, trying unhappily to crowd out his feelings and make space for polite conversation.

Instead, he stared. Later, if he looked back on this moment, he might say he felt excited about the prospects of working with Puugwol. It wasn't a lie, per se, but even Einriss knew that those words meant something quite different to most people.

Puugwol carefully plucked one of the tufts from her arms, slowly turning it in her fingers to examine it.

Dlyss flicked her sign forward in time, but saw no sign that Puugwol was likely to notice them in a reasonable span - either on her own or after a polite throat-clearing - and so resorted to something more verbal. “Puugwol!” she called sharply.

Puugwol blinked and looked up; most of the tufts appeared to withdraw into the skin, while a few detached with a faint pf! and went flying everywhere in a small blizzard of white, and her third eye closed and vanished. Left behind was, yes, a takma - short and skinny for a woman, shorter than Einriss; even Dlyss, who was not particularly tall, seemed to loom over her. She was brightly colored - her scale color might have been natural, but Einriss was almost certain that nobody's eyes became magenta by themselves - but otherwise, on the face of it, quite ordinary.

A huge grin plastered itself across her face, and she waved the tuft at the oracle. “Dlyss!” she exclaimed. “See what I have done! It was quite difficult.” She hopped off the table she'd been sitting on, and approached.

Dlyss regarded the thing dubiously. “And what is its purpose?”

“I have no idea,” Puugwol replied happily. She spoke Imperial quite clearly, but her accent was replete with pops and clicks. She glanced curiously at Einriss, then seemed to forget Dlyss and turned her attention on him. This close, it was obvious that her extra thumbs had not disappeared with everything else, and there appeared to be changes to the structure of her wings.

“This,” said Dlyss, “is Einriss, and I hope that he will be joining…” she trailed off, staring at Puugwol as the latter began to peer around at Einriss from different angles. And begin sniffing the air intently.

The third eye disappearing almost made Einriss physically ill - he would need to ask her not to do that, not to fold blood vessels aside and smother a whole organ, however small, in such a rapid motion - but he valiantly suppressed even the trace of a twitch. At least what replaced the eye was more normal, less grating to his innate sense of biological order, less likely to trigger his urge to interfere and patch her back up, when she was clearly in no need of patching up. Her close approach made something in him bristle - it mingled with all his other emotions, turning into something raw and primal that he hadn't felt for anyone else as long as he remembered, a dangerous and inappropriate surge, and its inappropriateness ultimately quashed the worst of itself, like stamping out a flame, and his jaw set.

“Puugwol,” Dlyss murmured quietly, “I have spoken to you about this.”

“About what?” Puugwol replied distractedly; her attention had gone to Einriss' right wing, which was folded. She then blinked, cocked her head to one side, and added, “Oh.”

Backing off to a less threatening range, she sat herself on the floor and arranged her expression into something friendly and open, though, from the difficulty she had in remaining still, she was clearly suppressing vast curiosity. “Please forgive; I have been impertinent. At this time I will accept being called Puugwol tin Gaat. Einriss, you are called?”

“Indeed,” he confirmed, pleased to find that his voice was steady. He would not yet ask her to consider the etiquette of organ-destruction; it'd be better to get to know each other first.

Getting to know each other shouldn't involve violating her physical privacy, even if she was willing to violate his. In any other circumstance, he might have found it only quaint, not too interested in maintaining a sacrosanct personal space, but he had to admit in context, its unexpectedness had caught him off guard. There were still after-effects of the incursion rippling through his body.

The hunger was in his eyes, though. It was to his credit that he did nothing to indulge it, not even speak of it or any of its component parts - but in a sense, his gaze right now was a greater violation of her privacy than her inspection had been moments ago. “Please to meet you, Puugwol,” he said, uncharacteristically willing to go through near-empty social rituals. “I look forward to working together.” It bothered him how true that was, in senses it shouldn't have been. A significant part still wanted to work with Puugwol in the same way it wanted to work with raw materials. He hoped it would pass with time - it was not a good distraction to suffer through.

Puugwol met his gaze, and found it… well, new. She did not understand what it meant, but she could not recall being looked at like that before. It did not seem unpleasant; perhaps she would find out more.

She looked at Dlyss, whose expression looked much the same as ever, though someone experienced in its minutiae might have guessed at a certain air of resignation there. “He is the lifegiver you did mention? To collaborate in the work?”

“Yes,” the oracle replied tersely, glancing at Einriss. “I deem it likely that he is willing to settle in the room across the hall - correct me if I am wrong, Einriss - and while I have not yet decided on a specific course of study, it would be appreciated if, once he is ready to move, you would assist in settling him in.”

“Oh yes,” Puugwol replied easily. “This said: I must implore you again to consider the possibilities of circumventing the posited growth hormone interru-”

“I am considering it, thank you,” Dlyss interjected.

Since Dlyss was not wrong, Einriss did not correct her. As the conversation progressed, enough of Einriss had managed to return to baseline that his usual blindness of rank resurfaced with a vengeance. “What is this matter that's being considered?” he asked, the sequence of words predictably kindling his interest.

Insofar as it was possible to tell, Dlyss did not look pleased at having to explain, but after a moment said: “Puugwol believes she has found a… mechanism to explain some of the physical differences between Chosen and Unchosen. This is playing a role in my decision-making process. I would prefer not to discuss it further at this time, but no doubt she would be willing to give you further detail.”

As Puugwol began opening her mouth, Dlyss added, “Later. At a more appropriate time.” Puugwol's mouth closed, reluctantly.

As soon as you're willing, Einriss thought and a sincere smile had found its way to his face. Here was someone who clearly shared his insatiable interest in the science of life - as well as his lack of concern when others might want to hear it. As much as that might be unpleasant to someone like Dlyss and he recognised that there was perhaps some misfortune in it, it bode well for Puugwol and his interactions. It would mean she was unlikely to filter her thoughts. It would make them efficient.

“I look forward to hearing about it,” he said - a phrase he knew full well was normally a platitude, but could not have been more sincere. The fire in his eyes had dimmed a little, less overbearingly voracious now, but still drawn to her in a stare that was perhaps not fully polite by normal takmar standards.

Puugwol beamed at him. It was good that he seemed to like her. And her ideas. Hardly anyone so far had responded so well. And maybe at some point he would be willing to show her whatever he had done to his wing - one of the first changes she had made to herself, an invisible one, had been to tweak her olfactory sense, and she could smell a difference on his wing. The stare was a little strange, still, but she was well aware that her own attention span was a little unusual, so perhaps it was something like that.

“Very well,” Dlyss concluded. “In that case, we may depart; but your room, Einriss, should be largely finished by tomorrow, so at that point you may begin moving your things into it.”

His stare would not dislodge for a good while longer, his smile strangely persistent. Whatever else Puugwol might think of this one, he was definitely not normal. That could be a good thing or a bad thing. No doubt, time would tell. Maybe once they could speak in private, without Dlyss beside them - not that there was ever really a true 'without Dlyss', given her capabilities - he would speak more than a few simple, polite phrases, and they could get to know each other properly. He nodded at her in lieu of a verbal good-bye.